


"Poor Derek"

by write_light



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Bad Boy Stiles Stilinski, Car Sex, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: For high-scoring, scholarships-and-a-bright-future Derek Hale, the worst thing that can happen is to stop thinking.  Rule-breaking, trouble-on-two-legs Stilinski has exactly that effect on just about everyone.</p><p>Written for <a href="http://tsumi-noaru.tumblr.com/">tsumi-noaru</a>, an amazing artist, who requested a High School AU for Sterek Secret Santa 2015 on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Poor Derek"

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: underage (but same age), very versatile boys  
> Author Notes: Sterek High School AU, pre-bite!Scott, no Hale tragedy, brainy jock Derek and wild boy Stiles in high school.  
> Betas: koshweasley and wings128 – many thanks to both of you!  
> Crossposted: On [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5597587) || [LJ](http://write-light.livejournal.com/585842.html) || [DW](http://write-light.dreamwidth.org/514578.html) || [tumblr](http://stereksecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/135854781132/merry-christmas-tsumi-noaru)  
> See end note for link to some perfect art by xkxdx!

 

***

"Poor Derek."  
That's what they were going to say when his grades slipped, when he missed application deadlines, when his scores were more like, well, like Stiles' scores.

"Poor Derek."  
It's exactly what they _did_ say, especially Derek's AP study partner, Lydia Martin. She said it sarcastically the first time, but after she heard Stiles was involved, it was mournful, like she was losing a friend to drugs. Scott said it with deepest pity.

***

"Poor Derek," said Stiles, watching the new kid flip through his binder to find the map of all the classrooms.

Stiles said it like he didn't care; he'd led more than a few guys at BHHS astray and Derek looked like an easy mark. This time, though, something inside him twinged even as he tried to be bad.

Derek, for his part, never felt self-pity or regret, not even as his GPA ticked downward. He did feel one thing very clearly from the start and that was the ache in his chest when this kid – this lithe brown-eyed guy with a staggered line of tiny moles across his cheek and neck – slid himself into the seat next to his in Health Ed and lifted his eyes slowly, all the way up Derek's body, pausing to bite his lip somewhere around Derek's crotch.

Derek ached for those eyes, for the mouth that curved up at one corner, and the long, widespread muscular thighs. Lightly hairy forearms gripped the edge of the desk as he lowered himself smoothly into place facing Derek. Derek whined audibly and it was like prey sounds to this predator in the next row. The long nimble fingers were reaching out now to tap on his desk and Derek's eyes flicked up and down – fingers, eyes, lips.

"Be my partner," said the lips, and the eyes more than backed that up with their own winking promises. The fingers tapped impatiently.

"The most important thing you'll learn in this class," barked the teacher, "is how to control your _filthy sexual urges_ …"

"Stiles Stilinski," said the lips in front of him, where Derek's eyes had finally settled, and between them the fingers formed a hand for him to shake.

"…perfectly 'normal' though they may seem to you,…" the voice from the front of the room said, far off in the distance, "…even _irresistible_."

"Derek Hale," said Derek too loudly, and Stiles took his outstretched hand.

"Hold that until the end," said the teacher. "Stilinski! Are you back?"

"Yeah, Coach. I didn't pass last semester, remember?" said Stiles, not letting go of Derek's warm hand.

The coach developed a second facial tick right then and there.

"You're going to be fun," Stiles said to Derek softly, as he grinned, his eyes roaming Derek's face. "We have to do a sex project."

"What?" Derek said, his voice hushed.

"Unless you want to do one about addiction or diseases or something _really boring_ like that," Stiles explained, letting his fingers slide slowly out of Derek's hand and leaning back, legs still spread wide, eyes still locked on Derek's.

The ache grew more intense.

***

"Your partner is _who_?" Lydia asked, sounding very concerned.

"'Stiles' – is what I think he said," Derek mumbled, trying very hard to make his brain focus on actual thoughts, or even on the lunch in front of him. He was also hoping that his hard-on was going to disappear before the bell rang.

"That kid's trouble," said Scott, punctuated by a deep inhale of his asthma medicine. "He's the Sheriff's son. Knows how to pick any lock, where to get liquor, never gets arrested. He can talk anyone into anything."

"You should know," Lydia observed cryptically, to Scott's pleading look and 'cut-it' gesture.

It all seemed like a show he was watching, starring himself, Derek thought. Some part of his brain was already shutting down all the pesky inhibitions, reliving how Stiles stretched at the end of class, his shirt lifting just enough to reveal a dark line of hair leading into his jeans.

"He's cute though," Derek blurted out, to Lydia's look of horror and Scott's slowly shaking head. "What? I can handle it. It's just health class – he's not in any of our AP classes."

***

"Poor Derek."

That one he heard, just as he was leaving Lydia and Scott behind. He was moving slowly across the lunchroom, his backpack sliding back and forth against his hard-on, a result of his ill-conceived plan to cover up his arousal. His mind turned it into Stiles' hand sliding up and down his cock, while he muttered things both appreciative and filthy.

Within the week, it _would_ be Stiles' hand, rough and deliberate.

***

_The Stilinski house, two days later_

"I think we should do masturbation."

"Wh- -uh.. huh?" Derek choked out.

"For our first project. Coach is all about self-control, so I say we give him what he wants. We can give up jacking it for a month, keep a journal about it. Help each other when it gets hard."

He laughed at his own joke, a wide, free laugh.

"Starting when?" Derek asked as the ache in him grew stronger watching Stiles laugh. He didn't like when the ache in his chest and his cock started conspiring.

Stiles kept looking at Derek's mouth, and at his hands, pressed together over his crotch like he was praying, which he sort of was.

"You need to pee?" Stiles finally asked.

"No – no, I… yeah, I'd better go."

"Down the hall, the last on the left."

A minute later, after testing the lock three times, Derek was furiously fisting his cock, the loudest sound in a silent room. He imagined Stiles' mouth on it. Too late, he realized he'd overlooked one key point.

It got everywhere, and Stiles was knocking, and the toilet paper was almost out, and Stiles was saying something about having toilet paper, and it got _everywhere_.

"We can start tomorrow," came a cocky, confident voice from just outside the door, inches from Derek's grimacing face, pressed against the door to hold it shut.

"Oh, I'm not…" Derek's voice gave out and he wiped his hand on his thigh and tugged his jeans up over his still-hard cock.

"Sorry about the TP. Open up and I'll hand you a new roll."

Derek's flushed face appeared in the crack; he opened it just wide enough to see the roll of toilet paper Stiles was holding out for him, wide enough to see Stiles wink at him and turn to walk back down the hall to his room. Wide enough to see that Stiles was hard too.

***

It took a while to clean up but Derek left the Stilinski bathroom cleaner than it had been in months and made his way slowly back to Stiles' bedroom _to talk about not masturbating_. He was breathing way too fast.

They made it three more days before calling the project a failure, officially, and that was only because the blowjobs they gave each other the next afternoon were not _technically_ masturbation. They were really careful not to use their hands at all.

The next time someone said, "Poor Derek," it was Stiles, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth, cheeks flushed bright red and pupils still wide with lust. Derek had dug his nails into Stiles' ass as he sucked that long cock and inhaled the deep scent all around him, fueling the ache he now felt day and night.

The pain of those nails was…oddly pleasurable, Stiles thought, and it sent him over the edge, leaving Derek choking.

***  
_A week later_

"I'd heard of him," Derek said to Scott as they passed each other at lacrosse practice. He finished the thought as Scott moved forward with him toward the goal – "but that was when we were in ninth grade and he was this crazy legend that kids talked about, the untouchable sheriff's kid at BHHS."

"You went to Academy Prep though?"

"My mom's kind of protective. She has her reasons."

"But you knew about him, even there?"

"And I pictured him differently. More leather jacket and much less attractive. Definitely uglier."

"Dude."

It was a pity 'dude' and only the bell spared Derek from justifying why he ditched Scott after they'd agreed to see a movie on Sunday.

***

"He missed practice on Saturday too," Scott revealed.

"And he cancelled our study session for tonight," Lydia sighed, frustrated. "I just know Stilinski is behind it. He's not good for Derek," Lydia said with authority.

"You're totally right, but he and I only have lunch together. I'm not taking all these AP classes like you and Derek are."

"You keep working on him during lacrosse practice; Derek and I agreed to study for the PSATs together, and we sit next to each other in AP Chem."

"I could just ask him, bro to bro, you know."

"Ask me what?" Derek said, appearing beside them.

"Did you and Stiles-?" Scott started to ask, then stopped, looking closely at Derek's very wrinkled shirt and strangely moussed hair.

"Oh my god you did," Lydia finished the horrifying thought as she took in all the clues. "You were wearing that outfit last night at the library before you ran out on me."

Derek looked down at the rumpled evidence of a fierce mutual JO session on Stiles' bed, where they'd both eventually fallen asleep. When the Sheriff banged on the door a half hour before school started, they awoke entangled, Stiles in a panicked flailing of limbs, Derek more slowly.

"I fell asleep in them," Derek offered, hoping the truth would suffice.

"And your hair," Lydia concluded. "No one uses that much product except Stiles Stilinski."

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked, running his hand over his head to flatten his hair.

"Dude, were you with Stilinski all night?" Scott asked, and Lydia elbowed him for the approval in his voice.

"No, I-"

Lydia gave Derek a disapproving stare that burned into him.

"Okay yes. He's- We're-"

"This has _got_ to stop," Lydia declared.

"Dude, way to get some. Even if it _is_ Stilinski…" he added softly, retreating out of reach of Lydia's fist.

***

"This isn't me," Derek confessed to Lydia that night at their hastily un-cancelled study session. He was in the library, highlighting the chapter on calculating moles, but he was already distracted by the memory of running his fingers from one mole to the next, down Stiles' neck and across his back. It seemed to confuse Stiles, the affection without sex, and that gave Derek the sense that he was briefly in control.

"Derek?" Lydia asked from across the table, seeing his eyes glaze over.

"I mean, I'm just – I play basketball and lacrosse, I'm taking two AP classes – as a junior –, my math is already college level, and all I want to do is…." He added an explicit gesture about his true desires.

"Stop! Please –" Lydia had her hand up as if to protect herself from even the thought. "We can get you back on track. College essays, an unblemished – well, slightly blemished – GPA; you can be me, in other words. But you can _not_ give in to his influence. Did you know Stiles once let a prisoner out of the jail because he'd done his own investigation and decided the guy was innocent?"

" _Was_ he?" Derek asked, a concerned eyebrow raised.

"What does that matter?" Lydia said, exasperated.

"Well it means he's got a big heart, and a big brain too-"

Lydia smacked Derek on the side of his head.

"You stop thinking about what big things Stiles has and get to work on the chapter summary for tomorrow."

***

The library fire alarm rang before Derek could finish the summary. When an actual fire was discovered, panic sent everyone running for the front doors, out into a cold night and into the parking lot where Stiles almost ran Derek over with his jeep in all the chaos.

Derek wasn't stupid; he knew instantly the fire had been Stiles' plan. He could smell the butane accelerant and he could smell the arousal as well; most of all, he could see the smug, over-confident grin on Stiles' face as he nodded for Derek to get in the jeep.

Days later, Derek would make a valiant effort to obscure this key information when the deputy interviewed him about the fire, his head still reeling with the feel of the leather seats under Stiles' sweaty thighs, and the smell of 2 a.m. donuts frying just a few feet away from where Stiles had parked them in plain view of the street, just before shucking his jeans and underwear all the way off in one quick motion.

***

This freedom that Stiles lived with – it did things to Derek. Seeing him naked from the waist down broke the studious exterior and the lonely interior, and the zipper on Derek's jeans, in roughly that order. Derek reveled in the pale skin and dark hair, the things he'd tasted before and the parts of Stiles that were new to him.

By 3 a.m. they'd done it twice, once with Stiles under him, begging Derek to go deeper, once with Stiles on top, pounding relentlessly even as they both watched a cop car cruising by, Derek wide-eyed, Stiles grinning.

Derek grunted in his semi-conscious state as they clung to each other afterward, shielded from the world in a warm jeep with steamy windows.

"Why here?"

"Best donuts in town. And they start selling fresh ones at 3:00 a.m. Get your pants back on and we'll go grab a couple dozen."

***

What happened next was legendary, at least to Stiles Stilinski, who already thought he was pretty legendary.

It started with the yellow glowing eyes Stiles saw staring back at him. He took it for a trick of the light, the yellow glow of the Argent's Firearms sign behind them, but the longer he looked, the more he was sure the glow came from inside Derek.

That yellow fire blazed through Derek's lunging kiss as he pushed Stiles hard against the door. The kiss was so deep and real it nearly made Stiles cry. It all ended quickly in the cold blue-white light of the Sheriff's flashlight tapping on the window behind Derek.

Derek leaped back from Stiles, not fully human any longer, and Stiles' mouth was a round 'o' of true surprise. Derek buried his face in his hands as the Sheriff slowly moved around the front of the jeep to the driver's side. Stiles knew doom was closing in, but Derek was – changing the shape of his ears, for one thing. When it was over, Stiles rolled his window down fast.

"Son."

His father was tired, of many things.

"Dad."

"So you _are_ gay," the Sheriff countered.

"I told you I could be."

"And this is…"

"Miguel," Stiles improvised.

"Miguel?" said Derek and the Sheriff at the same time.

"You look like a good kid," the Sheriff started to say, giving Derek a hard stare.

"I _am_ ," Stiles insisted.

"Not _you_. 'Miguel' over there."

Stiles slid down a bit in his seat.

"Now, 'Miguel,' I'm going to ask you once. Only once. I strongly suggest you tell the truth. I'll know."

"He will," Stiles said under his breath.

"What are you doing in this jeep, with my son, at three in the morning, windows all steamed up, outside the donut shop?"

"We were making out, Sheriff," Derek said calmly, startling both Stilinskis.

"Dad, he's… - clearly."

"Shut up, Stiles. Keep talking, Miguel."

"But only because we've been spending so much time together studying."

Stiles flinched away, staring at Derek in surprise. He marveled at how that lie came out sounding so true.

"Really," said the Sheriff, clearly not yet convinced.

"I'm his partner in health class and we're going to get his grades up to where they should be, just like mine."

"Eaaaaaasy, big guy," Stiles whispered, just loud enough for Derek to hear.

"And we're going to do our college applications together. And he's taking AP English with me next year, so..."

Derek's voice implied top scores, private colleges, all sorts of astounding things the Sheriff had only dreamed of.

"What the fuck are you-" Stiles hissed, only to have Derek grab his hand tightly.

The sheriff looked at their hands on the seat between them.

"I'll hold you to that," he said and Stiles whipped around to face him, panicking.

"Dad, we – it's late, let's not make any crazy promises at this hour."

"Take him home, Stiles, then get your ass back in bed. Your bed. You have exactly- Where do you live, Miguel?"

"Over near Hale House," Derek said calmly.

"You have twenty minutes, Stiles. Drop him off, get home. You can study tomorrow afternoon," the Sheriff said as he left.

They watched in silent unison as he strode slowly up to the front of the jeep, across the front where they could only see a vague shadow of him, and back to his car, some 10 feet away.

"My dad's the Sheriff around these parts," Stiles said, eyes lowered.

"Yeah, I know," Derek said, smiling at Stiles' unstoppable humor.

" _You_ are terrifying."

"I can explain that," Derek said quickly, his smile vanishing.

"You can explain the eyes and ears and the claws and … whatever that was, it was _awesome_. But there is _no_ way you can get my scores up high enough to make it into AP. It'd be easier for me to hack into the-"

Derek kissed him again, just as intensely as before, and Stiles kissed him back, feeling an ache spreading through his chest. There were tears this time, and he blinked them away fast.

The Sheriff flicked his high beams at them and Stiles had the jeep in gear in seconds.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> By total coincidence, the amazing artist [xkxdx](http://xkxdx.tumblr.com/tagged/Commission+Information) created [this beautiful (and slightly NSFW) Sterek art](http://xkxdx.tumblr.com/post/96873468085/i-meant-to-spend-2-hours-on-this-and-i-spent-10), and it looks exactly the way I imagined Stiles and Derek in this fic! 
> 
> Have a look and give her some love!


End file.
